


Wonderstruck.

by Apartmentfortytwo



Category: Carmilla Web series - Fandom
Genre: Also Carmilla stealing Laura's shampoo is my headcanon, Angst, Angst and Smut, Angsty talk, F/F, Or the talk that we didn't really get about Mattie's death, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-22 03:19:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10688697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apartmentfortytwo/pseuds/Apartmentfortytwo
Summary: Laura and Carmilla. A dark alley. Regrets, bitterness, but remaints of a love that got shattered by the wrong choices.





	Wonderstruck.

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, I didn't remember the existence of this until I opened my google docs and came across it. It was only fair to finish it and publish it, yes? Hope you'll like it. As usual, these characters own me. I don't own them.

It is very late at night and you know you shouldn’t be doing this but every pore in your skin feels even more in fire each second you spend pacing into that mansion. It’s suffocating and it’s slowly murdering you. Each second, each room reminds you of her. The 300-and-more-years old vampire you deeply fell for but failed to tell her so. Who now seems to hate you. No. Doesn’t seem to. She probably does. And how can you blame her when you basically helped Danny murder her sister? She trusted you with her secret and you went ahead and spat it out to one of the person that hated the older vampire. You knew what you were doing when you did it, yet you went ahead and spat it out. You gave up one of the secrets she trusted you. Even when she thought you wouldn’t do it. Truth is, she’s in every right of hating you. And you don’t expect her forgiveness. But even then, you still cry. Cry because the love of your life hates you. Because you threw the little pieces of whatever you had left with her away the second you told Danny what was a secret between you and Carmilla. A secret she didn’t expect you to spill around.

Tears are streaming down your face and you swear you can feel the cold of the night sneaking through the layers of your skin and into your bones, settling in. Finding home there. It’s cold and dark and you honestly don’t care about anything. You didn’t mean for Mattie to die, no. You didn’t mean for everything to go to hell. You thought you were doing righteous things by asking Vordenberg to be member of the board. You thought you were doing something right. Guess you weren’t.

But there it is. That faint scent you are so familiar with. The scent you tried to hold onto pillows and darted clothes around rooms. It’s there. Ever so present. And you suddenly don’t know how the hell you ended up in a dark alley, partially lit by moonlight. But you did, and now you are scared. Carmilla’s words are echoing in your head. A small noise of lips wettening catches your attention and your head slowly turns to your left. But darkness is all you can see. Except… There’s the small reddish end of a lit cigarette and you wonder who the hell is hiding in the shadows. Even when the back of your brain is screaming it at you. The answer is there. A soft, dark laughter escapes the smoker hiding in the dark and they just spat out, like venom in their words “I thought I made myself clear, cupcake.” And you shiver. Because that nickname isn’t endearing anymore. It’s vile. Full of hatred. And it’s breaking your heart.

But before you can say something back, your back is met with bricks and you swear you could’ve stopped your head from hitting the wall as well, but it was impossible. It almost killed you with fear. Now, you’ve got a very angry Carmilla, who looks as if she could snap your neck if you speak. But what are words when all you do is cry? You lost her. You can tell by her eyes. She’s gone.

And so are you.  
Her breath of faint your lavender shampoo and cigarettes is intoxicating, and you can swear she looks ready to kill you. But the demons inside her are fighting her heart to the point tears prickle on her once kind brown eyes. You release a shaky breath, while she looks at you. And you know you should be scared, but you can’t. How can you feel scared of the only person that makes you feel safe? 

Carmilla’s fangs are out there, and you know you shouldn’t stare at them like this, but how can you tear your eyes away from something that you were always so curious about? Before she can be warned, you are pressing your lips to hers, in a desperate attempt to hold onto something familiar, like the taste of her lips. But you didn’t count with the dangerous element that her fangs represented. 

She responds, and wow, you wished she had her fangs out more, and maybe you shouldn’t be considering how it would feel if she bit you, but it’s the sudden pang of pain to your lower lip that draws your attention from the kiss. She’s pulling back, and you are trying desperately to hold onto the way your humanity needs air to live. Your chest is going crazy, and her eyes are locked to yours, when you see it. A single crimson droplet of blood. Her tongue collects it, and the color covers her lower lip. 

It’s yours. She accidentally bit your lip. The hunger in her eyes sets fires in the pit of your stomach and for once, even when your mind is telling you to flee, you crash your lips to Carmilla’s once again, wanting nothing but to taste your own blood on her lips. 

Her hands are everywhere, and when you try to touch her, you find yourself pinned to the wall behind you, and a snarl comes out of Carmilla. And it should’ve scared you, but instead, it elicits a gasp out of you. 

Carmilla’s lips find your neck and you feel your knees buckling. Her knee separates your legs, giving you some kind of leverage and your hips buckle down in response, grinding onto the leather clad thigh. Small moans escape your throat, and it doesn’t take you long to come by that mere friction against her leg. All you feel while you come down your high is a kiss to your neck, a feather-like kiss to your soft skin. 

And just like it came, it left.

Carmilla is gone, and you’re left with a cut to your lip and the remnants of an orgasm and the taste of cigarettes in your mouth. 

You lick your lips and decide to go back. Sleep it off.

Live off of the memories.

Or maybe die of heartbreak.


End file.
